


Into the Mouth of the Wolf

by sisterthreads



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Dante Caprizio, Dominick Carisi Sr. - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Marjorie Caprizio, Men's Fashion, Original Character(s), Pre-Barisi, Pre-Relationship, Sonny has a crush, Tailor Caprizio, Veronica Carisi, bespoke fluff, gratuitous use of Italian, sonny loves rafael, tailor romance, talk of wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisterthreads/pseuds/sisterthreads
Summary: “You must tell him how you feel.”“Were it that simple.”“It is! What’s the worst that could happen?”“You haven’t met him,” Sonny looked up at her seriously. “The man has a tongue sharp as your shears.”“Yes, but he cares for you?”“I think so.”“Then you have nothing to lose.”~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~Marjorie and Dante Caprizio help Sonny work up the courage to pursue his interest in one A.D.A. Rafael Barba as they fit him for a couple of new suits.





	1. In Bocca Al Lupo

**Author's Note:**

> In Italian, to wish a familiar friend "good luck", you say "In bocca al lupo", meaning "Into the wolf's mouth". The wolf represents fear, and to conquer it, you must kill it from within. The person you wish luck to must reply "Crepi (il lupo)", meaning "Death to the wolf", or risk bad luck.
> 
> In S18E6 (Broken Rhymes), Sonny reveals that he gets his suits from "Caprizio. Lives two blocks from where I grew up in Staten Island". I loved that reference, and sought to explore the realm of men's fashion and design through this fictional tailor.

A familiar jangle of bells rang out as Sonny swung open the door to Caprizio’s, and he was hit with a wall of warm air, thawing his February bones. He shivered from the temperature change, and his face and ears were pink from the wind. Rubbing his gloved hands together, he looked around. The shop was unchanged from when his father had first brought him here more than twenty five years ago to pick up a finished suit for himself. Sonny had been fitted for first communion and confirmation suits in the years following, and then had been getting his own done every few years since he finished his undergraduate. The lobby was much like any dry cleaner’s; laminate countertop and glass partitions, paper signs and notices taped here and there, a bouquet of fake flowers that were religiously dusted but faded and drab. The real magic was behind the frosted glass door to the left of the reception area.

“Sonny Carisi, can it be?” Mrs. Caprizio gushed, spotting him through the reception window. She bustled out into the lobby and reached her arms high to pinch Sonny’s cheek before wrapping him in a warm hug. Sonny smiled and patted her back. Marjorie Caprizio was a short, stout woman, with the stature of Mrs. Pots and the temperment of Cogsworth. Her red hair curled around her beaming face, and she wore a cleverly-designed black tunic over straight-legged black pants, her black platform clogs doing little for her height next to the gangly detective. She was, as always, dripping with her characteristic costume jewelry; huge rings, half a forearm’s worth of bangles on each arm, a massive gold mandala pendant on a thick chain, and heavy clip-on gold-plate earrings. She always had an otherwordly way about her; originally from London, her accent had faded slightly over half a century, taking on some classic New York edges, but had successfully evaded her born-and-raised husband’s Staten Island drawl. She gestured broadly, spoke in slow sing-song, her ornamentation somewhere between nomadic Romani and Egyptian royalty. Her bright red lips were stretched into an endless smile as she appraised the young man. “You look marvelous, my dear. To what do we owe the honor? It looks like you hardly need our establishment.” A blush of red fought to overtake the wind-whipped pink in Sonny’s cheeks as he grinned. He was dressed casually, but smartly; he was off today, but he was also going to buy a suit. A simple but stiffly-pressed white oxford tucked into sleek grey slacks, which ended over weather-practical brogues. Over all of this, he wore his olive car coat with the tan corduroy collar for a casual touch, and a heather gray scarf because again, it was February in New York. He had pieced together the look purposefully, down to the sleek watch on his left wrist, hoping to channel the sophistication he wanted for his next suit.

“Mrs. Caprizio, you’re far too kind,” he grinned, taking her hand in his own, “and I wouldn’t look half as good without this shop.”

“You flatter us, my dear, but I certainly won’t stop you. How may we be of service to you today?” Her eyes peered up from beneath thick, blackened lashes. Sonny shifted from one foot to the other, shoving his hands into his coat pockets unconsciously.

“I’d like to get a couple of suits cut. I started at Manhattan SVU about eight months ago, and I could really use a few more in circulation. It’s a little different than the Bronx or Brooklyn,” he admitted.

“That’s right, your mother was saying how happy she is that this post is a good fit for you,” Marjorie practically crooned, “I saw her at that church luncheon last week. Do you love The City?” Her eyes were starry as she envisioned the glamorous borough.

“It’s great, it really is,” Sonny nodded with a smile, “My apartment is tiny, but there’s so much to see and do. And my boss is awesome, a really strong leader, and my coworkers are so dedicated. It’s all good.”

“I’m so happy for you, my darling! Just delighted, really I am,” Marjorie patted his shoulder maternally.

“Thanks,” Sonny squeezed her hand before gently releasing it. “Is it a good time for a fitting?”

“Oh yes, my dear,” she gestured around knowingly, “February is always so slow. Let me call Dante, I have him upstairs working on some little house projects.” She picked up the cream phone from its wall mount and pressed a couple of buttons to intercom into the surprisingly spacious two-story apartment above the shop where the two had lived since becoming empty nesters. Sonny suspected that would change fairly soon, as Dante Caprizio, a hefty Italian-American war veteran, was walking with a cane these days – bad knee, he’d say brusquely. He didn’t speak any more than was necessary, but his personality bloomed through his shirts. Patterns and colors of every sort - pastel paisley one day, jewel-toned ikat the next, chambray with a red and white ascot on a Saturday. Today, he entered the shop in violet and gray damask, thick beige sweater gathered in his free hand as the other guided his cane through the doorframe. He boasted a full head of lightly-slicked back brown hair despite his age, and a couple of large rings adorned thick fingers, arthritic from decades of fine-motor activity. His expression shifted from grumpy weather-battled to a wide, beaming smile when he caught sight of Sonny

“Sonny,” he greeted the young man, freeing his sweater to shake his hand firmly, “A pleasure. Two suits?”

“Yes please,” Sonny nodded, quirking a small smile at the man’s ever-efficient communication. Marjorie led the way as the three passed through the frosted glass door.

The massive room that opened up behind the door was the antithesis of the stark reception area. The lighting was incandescent and just brighter than dim, glowing from scattered table and floor lamps throughout. Sheer fabric panels draped in waves along the length of the ceiling, deep hues of blue and green. The walls were dark gray, and various bolts of fabric, finished coture, and coordinating accessories hung on hangers and in frames and shadowboxes or were laid purposefully out on small end tables between deep leather chairs, and ornate rugs were placed at jaunty angles distinguishing fitting areas and sewing stations. The room toed the balance between bohemian boudoir and Edwardian parlor effortlessly, and only at the edges could one spot the creatively hidden drop-ceiling or the laminate tile on the floor. Marjorie immediately swept over to the rack that extended along the entire back wall, where bolts of fabric draped over oscilating hangers for easy browsing. Her skill in this tailoring duo was with materials. She knew just what texture and color would be best for any given client, and then which accessories, shirts, shoes, adornments would perfectly set off the suit skillfully crafted by her husband. Dante made his way over to the measuring area, slinging a tape around his neck and procuring Sonny’s file, a pad of paper, and a pen. He gestured broadly for Sonny to join him, which he did after hanging his coat on the familiar hooks, and posted up in the middle of a purple and olive Shanghai key rug in front of a free-standing full-length mirror in a dark cherry frame. Sonny knew the drill, lifting and lowering his arms when Dante would lightly tap them, whisking the tape around and down his limbs and trunk, jotting notes and figures with each measurement. Marjorie hummed as she slid hangers along the rack, pulling a few as she went along.

“I seem to recall you were here just a few months ago, Sonny, how is that gray pinstripe suit holding up?” she mused, running fingers across various pieces of material, glancing over her shoulder.

“It’s really nice. I’m glad we went with the thinner lapels, I feel like I would have looked a little clownish with anything thicker.”

“Oh yes darling, the two inch ones really draw a nice line. Of course we’re working with such an attractive young man, it’s all the easier!” Sonny glanced at Dante, who actually gave an assenting sideways nod.

“You’re so sweet, Mrs. Caprizio,” he said, touching his fingertips to his chest graciously. “How’s Danny?” Marjorie launched into a few minutes on her only son Danny, who was an apprentice for a French tailor in Vermont. He would eventually take over for Dante, but was cutting his teeth for a few years with the renowned Michel DuPrix. Sonny offered updates about Bella, Gina and Theresa, although Marjorie was more or less up to speed on them, seeing Mr. and Mrs. Carisi every couple of weeks. Dante moved surprisingly lightly, considering the bum knee, laying pattern paper, clipping and marking the tan feather-weight sheets to various places on Sonny’s upper body. The phone rang, and Marjorie swept over to the desk to answer it. Dante jotted down a few more notes on his pad, and then looked up at Sonny expectantly.

“Same style?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I was thinking,” Sonny started slowly, “of something a little more slim, cut a little closer,” he gestured around himself awkwardly. “I like my pinstripe suit, but I was thinking even thinner lapels, higher arm holes, and maybe just two buttons instead of three.” Dante raised both eyebrows but nodded, apparently reluctantly impressed.

“Two or three pieces?”

“One of each?”

“Yes, good. Marjorie has pulled some samples-”

“Yes dear,” Marjorie chimed in, “I think this deep blue would be beautiful with your skin, and this light stone wool fears no season. Do the three-piece in blue, don’t you think, my love?” Dante nodded, biting his upper lip in concentration as he furiously jotted down still more notes, before peeling off his sweater and approaching the samples his wife had selected.

“Mm, yes, this blue is exquisite,” he murmured, “Do you like them, Sonny?” The young man approached the table and gently ran his fingers over each bolt. The first, the royal blue, was subtly irridescent, with a fine foil woven throughout. It was a super smooth fresco, medium weight, and it held its shape beautifully. The gray was a heavier matte slate flannel, microscopically fuzzy somehow, the color of the stones Sonny used to skip across Great Kills Harbor as a kid. Both fabrics were gorgeous, and Sonny wondered how many weeks of overtime he was blowing to update his look.

“They’re amazing,” he insisted, gazing at the material, unwilling to let it go, “so different from each other, but I think they will be perfect.” He wondered silently if a certain well-dressed, sharp-tongued A.D.A. might agree.

The Caprizios sat at the plush armchairs on either side of the sewing table, murmuring back and forth, each jotting down notes, adding and subtracting measurements and prices. The blue suit would include a vest, the buttons would be tan, and the jacket would have two vents in back. The gray would have two black buttons on the jacket, pocket flaps, and the collar would be lined in black silk. Both pairs of trousers would half-break over Sonny’s shoes, and would be flat in front. Marjorie proposed a single vent in the gray suit, and Dante recommended four buttons for the blue jacket’s sleeve ends; Sonny quite agreed. They worked so smoothly together, the product of decades of cooperation on thousands of suits for hundreds of men. Sonny watched in awe, as Dante’s pencil darted about the page to procure a mock-up, Marjorie verbally directing the utensil when she felt it had strayed, gesturing languidly and pointing at Sonny’s shoulders, inseam, waistline from a few feet away.

As Dante began tucking the notes away, Marjorie turned to eye Sonny with that look that told him she had uncomfortable questions for him.

“So Sonny,” she began oh-so-sweetly, “Are you seeing anyone?” He blushed. “Ah! I know that look. It’s early on, isn’t it?” The blush deepened, and she clapped her hands together excitedly.

“So early that it isn’t actually happening,” Sonny admitted with a half-smile, “but I’m hopeful. Honestly, I’m hoping these new suits will help catch his eye, ya know?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, glancing at the floor. Marjorie purred in approval.

“Well? Who is he?”

“Uh…” Sonny stalled, trying to determine how small this city actually was, but decided to indulge this lifelong acquaintance, "His name is Rafael. Cuban, from the Bronx. Speaks the fastest Spanish I've ever heard. He’s actually an A.D.A. for Manhattan. He works pretty closely with my unit.”

“An A.D.A.!” she gushed, clasping her hands together, rings knocking metallically. “How romantic. What’s he like?”

“Honestly? He can be kind of a jerk, but mostly when he forgets to eat, which is pretty often. He’s so, so smart, and his brain works at about a hundred miles an hour,” he offered, one arm tucked in the crook of the other, gesturing arm. “I’m trying to convince him to let me shadow him on a case, because I can only imagine the amount of case law he has up there,” he tapped his temple, his gaze slowly leaving the little shop on Staten Island, “and he cares, you know? Some of those lawyer types get pretty self-involved, but this guy? He’ll pull the most ungodly hours you can imagine for days on end if it means he can get justice for even one victim.” He trailed off, picturing Rafael Barba himself, brown hair with streaks of silver starting at the temples and dashed throughout elegantly, flashing green eyes that most often peered through narrowed lids, that trademarked smirk that could either signal reluctant pleasure or imminent death, the difference only a practiced interpreter could suss out.

“You’re really falling for him, aren’t you?” she observed seriously, eyes wide in wonder. Sonny grinned.

“Yeah, yeah I am. It’s pretty sad,” he joked. Marjorie shook her head, still serious.

“Oh no, my dear, you must go after him! Does he know how you feel?” Sonny was horrified.

“Oh god no,” he protested, “There’s no way. This is a textbook long-game, Mrs. Caprizio. He’s way outta my league.”

“My darling, you really don’t seem very self-aware, making assessments like that.”

“I’m just being realistic. He’s a district attorney, I’m a detective. He lives in a high rise in The City, I’m commuting from a shoebox in the Upper West Side. I know I’m not nothing, but there are definitely differences.” He trailed off, suddenly more vexed about the subject, having laid it out for someone else. “Not to mention, he’s at least ten years older than me.” Marjorie waved him off.

“Dante is ten years older than me, and we’re perfect together,” she drew out ‘perfect’ for effect, “He sounds marvelous, darling. Promise me you’ll ask him out?”

“Ahh…” he hesitated again, but figured there would be no way for her to find out either way, “Yeah, alright. I’ll ask him out.”

“Splendid!” she gushed, rising to fold him into another tight hug before whisking off to the reception desk to answer another call. Dante turned from the same desk and extended a hand to Sonny.

“We’ll call you for a fitting. Less than two weeks, I think,” he stated, clasping the young man’s hand in his own.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Caprizio, I truly appreciate it.” Dante led Sonny out of the back room and to the front door, holding it open for him.

“Oh and Sonny?” the older man called when Sonny was just a couple of paces away, “She’s right, you know. Best of luck,” he offered, before disappearing back into the shop. Sonny stared after him, stunned.

“I know,” he mumbled to himself, before turning and getting into his car.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It was two weeks exactly when Marjorie called, apologizing for the delay, but a whole wedding party had needed last-minute alterations when the tux rental lost their appointment (“Good for us, of course, but will they come back the next time they need something? I doubt it, darling.”), but the suits were basted, and Sonny needed to come in for his first fitting. He drove out to the shop the following day, a Saturday, the late February cold somehow even more bitter than two weeks prior. This time when the shop door swung open, Dante greeted him warmly and brought him immediately to the back, proudly showing him the preliminary versions of his suits. Sonny hung his coat, a heavy, grey wool topcoat, and stepped once more into the fitting area. Donning the blue pants and vest, he sized himself up in the mirror, smoothing the unfinished pieces, preening at Dante’s murmured praise. Even in their raw state, they were stunning. They accentuated length, but brought lanky limbs into balance. Sonny twisted around, flexing and extending in the mirror to get the full effect. Marjorie bustled in after a few moments, and lavished the blushing young man with praise.

“Darling, look at you! These new measurements are doing wonders for that lovely figure,” she cooed.

“Thanks, Mrs. Caprizio. Incredible work, as always,” he replied sheepishly, but could not totally tear his eyes from the full length mirror, noting in this moment how the sleek pant leg broke over his socked foot. Dante handed him the jacket to put on over everything, and the effect was exactly as refined as Sonny had hoped. Just a couple of minor tucks and gives, and this suit was ready to be finished.

“My dear, what of the young man you were so taken with? Did you take my advice and ask him out?” Marjorie pried as Sonny slipped out of the blue suit and into the gray. His leg caught on the waistband and he almost toppled over. He pulled them up carefully, buttoning them, and then looked up at the woman, blushing.

“Well,” he began, “not- it wasn’t exactly… We got drinks after work.” Just the other day, in fact, Sonny had caught Barba on his way out of court after the prosecution’s preferred verdict was returned. He had been in a good mood, and agreed to join the detective at the ubiquitous cop bar around the corner.

“That’s good!” she gasped, “How did it go?”

“It was pretty good! I mean, I don’t know if it was technically a date, but we were there for hours. Talking mostly shop, but we got around to discussing other things…” Sonny trailed off, gaze distant, but he blushed sheepishly when he met Marjorie’s eyes; they were wide and sparkling, and her fingers and rings were woven together in a tight clasp as she listened to the young man speak. She saw him turn thoughtful as he resumed describing the evening he had shared with his beloved, saw his eyes grow distant and fond, his cheeks flush intermintantly, his hands alternately gesticulating with the story and sublty holding himself, perhaps a subconscious expression of how he wished he had been held that night. “It was good,” he said, reassuring both Marjorie and himself, “I feel like we got to know each other. He’s been nicer at work, anyway,” he chuckled.

“How do you mean, my dear?” Marjorie asked skeptically, brows furrowed. Sonny waved away the thought.

“We just have sort of a… well, banter. He’s a grumpy guy, and I refuse to leave him alone. It’s fun. I promise.”

“Ah. I’m a grumpy woman, and my Dante is my sun. I suppose he also has wonderful taste and is terrible at showing emotion?” she teased. Sonny’s smile grew impossible wider.

“Exactly,” he laughed, exchanging a grin with Dante, who looked up from tucking, pinning, and measuring at the mention of his name.

Sonny changed back into his suit and perused an antique dresser, the drawers filled with accessories for sale while Dante and Marjorie conspired over the final tweaks. He picked through little boxes of cufflinks in the top drawer, carefully folded pocket squares in the next, boxes of tie clips and rolled-up suspenders and ties in the ones below, every color and pattern imaginable contrasting the laquered wood of the dresser. He lightly stroked a yellow tie with thin blue and white stripes, imagining it laying neatly on that broad chest he was so fond of, as he reflected on the last week or so. Rafael really had been almost lovely; Sonny had seen him smile at least three times, and had even uttered the hallowed “you’re right, Carisi”. Truly, it had been a week for the books. Marjorie glanced over at Sonny as his hands mindlessly wandered though a stack of silk ascots.

“Well, my dear, what will you do now? What’s the next step?” she pressed gently. He smiled at the scarf in his hand and shook his head.

“I don’t know. It makes me pretty nervous to think that I have more work to do. But I also know that nothing will happen if I leave it alone.”

“You must tell him how you feel.”

“Were it that simple.”

“It is! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You haven’t met him,” Sonny looked up at her seriously. “The man has a tongue sharp as your shears.”

“Yes, but he cares for you?”

“I think so.”

“Then you have nothing to lose.” She gazed at him over her glasses, perched at the end of her nose. Her certainty fed his confidence, and he visibly straightened, recharged with his quest.

“Okay, Mrs. Caprizio. I will, I swear.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” she gushed, absently rubbing her husband’s back as he hunched over Sonny’s file.

“I’ve updated the file,” Dante said, the first words from him in nearly half an hour, “I’m hoping to get to these early next week. Marjorie will call you,” he instructed, turning to face Sonny, who was wrapping up in his coat and scarf.

“Thank you, Mr. Caprizio.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

“You sure?”

“Of course,” Dante heaved himself out of his chair and grasped his cane. “It’s good for me to walk a bit.” Sonny walked a half step behind the man, today wearing a grey crewneck sweater over a classic navy-with-white-polka-dots shirt. He strode smoothly despite the laquered black assistance in his right had, and pushed through each door with practiced ease.

“Thanks again, Mr. Caprizio. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks?”

“Yes, Sonny,” the man replied, standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed. He looked away for a moment, then his gaze locked on the young man. “As I always say – my Marjorie is right. In bocca al lupo!” His eyes twinkled, and Sonny’s widened with delight.

“Crepi!” he cried, dramatically throwing a gloved fist into the air, and Dante barked out a laugh before turning back to the shop.


	2. Crepi Al Lupo

The next week and a half were absolute madness at SVU, so Sonny didn’t have a moment to get to Staten Island until the second Saturday after his fitting. Case after case landed in the bullpen, and none of them simple or rewarding. Sonny pulled up to the shop well after noon, a bit more disheveled than usual, but in good spirits. He gratefully accepted the coffee that Marjorie offered him upon entering the back room, and they sat around the sewing table, waiting for Dante to return from the market.

“Tell me everything, darling.”

“Well… we went on a date.”

“A real date?!”

“Yep. Some upscale joint in midtown, his pick.”

“Naturally. And?”

“And… it was amazing. He knew what to order, seemed to know the servers. We drank incredible wine, talked… Sat at that table for four hours, and it felt like no time at all.”

“My dear! That sounds perfect!”

“I know. It was like a dream.”

“Did you tell him how you feel?”

“In not so many words, I guess,” Sonny acknowledged sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and gulping the cooling coffee. “I told him I admired him. And that he’s a great dresser. At different times, of course. I guess… I felt like he could tell. Like he already knew.” Marjorie took a slow sip from her tall mug, considering him.

“That’s a good thing,” she pronounced after a moment.

“I thought so too. It made it easier to just talk naturally, assuming we both understood the situation. Made the conversation just flow.”

“Oh Sonny, it’s just too exciting.”

“I know. Feels too good to be true, but I’m enjoying it while it lasts.” He stared into his coffee for a moment, but looked up when Dante entered the room, covered completely by a gray and black houndstooth coat and maroon scarf, holding a paper bag of groceries in one arm.

“Sonny, I apologize for the delay,” he offered.

“It’s no problem at all, Mr. Caprizio. Gave us some time to catch up,” Sonny insisted. Marjorie smiled warmly. Setting the groceries and his coat aside, Dante strode over to one of the wardrobes on the far wall and retrieved a hanging bag. He withdrew the two suits, and Sonny barely suppressed a gasp. The sleekest seams tied together perfect panels of fabric, lines sharp as a knife, every tuck and fold pressed into purposeful place. The blue barely shimmered in the low light, bright and yet totally refined. The gray, pleasantly soft to the touch, soaked up what light the lamp cast upon it, gleaming like freshly driven snow. Sonny couldn’t stop touching them, first the lapel of one, then the pant leg of the other.

“These are… I’m speechless. They’re amazing. I am so grateful for your work,” he said solemnly, gazing lovingly upon his new suits. The Caprizios muttered gracious acknowledgement, and Dante jotted away at Sonny’s invoice, clacking away at the calculator. Sonny’s heart tugged, knowing that this was goinig to be a big investment, but his mind gently reassured him that it was the right choice.

“Here you are, dear,” Marjorie soothed, handing him the form. Sonny read it twice before he could process it.

“This can’t be right,” he said quietly, “That’s not nearly enough!”

“We gave you a little family discount,” Dante stated proudly, “I’m so glad you came back to the shop for such important pieces.”

“No no, Mr. Caprizio, please, can I talk you into reducing this discount? I feel like a highway robber.”

“Absolutely not,” the man insisted, brows furrowed.

“Okay, then how about I pick out some accessories at full price?”

“I won’t make any promises,” Dante replied airily, pulling a few pre-selected pieces from the bottom drawer of the dresser Sonny had pawed through during his last visit. He displayed them one by one to the gaping detective: for the blue suit, a white pocket square with a navy and maroon border, maroon and yellow palmette suspenders with leather fasteners, and a maroon tie. With the grey, he recommended an olive and cream pincheck tie, a crisp black leather belt, and a thin, silver tie clip. It was all so perfect that Sonny bought it all, despite his protests, at the family discount. He was beaming, eyes darting from one perfect piece to the next. Marjorie bundled everything up in boxes and paper while Dante handled the transaction, and Sonny blabbered on excitedly about wearing the suits to work the next week, and how he would have to visit Rafael in his office, and won’t he be surprised? Marjorie hummed in encouragement, snipping strings and brown paper and tieing bows and pressing folds. Sonny wandered back to the dresser, drawing out the yellow tie with blue and white pinstripes he had found during his last visit.

“I think I want to buy this tie too?” It was more a question than a statement. Dante quirked a smile.

“For your friend?” he clarified. Sonny blushed, but he nodded slowly, stroking the fine silk with his thumb.

“I’ll wrap it separately,” Marjorie mumured. “He’s going to love it.” Sonny considered this, and then handed the tie over for processing.

“Do you think it’s… too much?”

“Hardly, my dear,” she confirmed, “You were already purchasing pieces for yourself, and this one reminded you of him? It’s perfect. You have wonderful taste, darling.”

“You’re right,” Sonny admitted, flashing a thoughtful half-smile. It was an elegant tie, but colorful enough to hopefully make Rafael’s monthly circulation. He thanked Marjorie for the encouragement. The Caprizios loaded Sonny’s arms with packages, and Dante reverently carried the hanging bag out to his car.

When the young man was settled into his car, Dante leaned in slightly through the open passenger window.

“E il lupo?” he asked with a grin.

“Ferito,” Sonny smiled confidently. “Sarà conquistato.” Dante nodded knowingly; he straightened, double-tapped the roof of the car, and watched as Sonny pulled away.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

July arrived with sweltering heat and relentless sunshine, and the afternoon of the annual Carisi Independence Day party was no exception. The Caprizios arrived shortly after the 3pm start time, Marjorie in a full-length blue and white toile linen dress and bright red headscarf, Dante in a red, white and blue brocade button-up and khaki shorts, each bearing a casserole dish of Marjorie’s famous berry crumble. Veronica Carisi had bemoaned how quickly the beloved dessert had been finished last year, so Marjorie decided to make two batches for this year. They walked directly into the backyard, following the gentle guitar music that wafted toward them as they approached. Dominick Sr. spotted the couple immediately and greeted them with hugs, and then took the dishes to set in the kitchen.

“Vera, darling,” Marjorie greeted Mrs. Carisi warmly, “so lovely to see you.”

“Marj, my dear, it’s mutual,” the shorter woman beamed, drawing her friend into a hug. “Welcome. Can I get you some punch?”

“You needn’t even ask,” Marjorie laughed, patting her arm. Veronica grabbed a small glass punch cup and filled it from a covered pitcher. Handing it to her guest, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“Did I tell you? Sonny brought his new boyfriend!” she whispered excitedly. Marjorie’s eyebrows shot into her hairline.

“He did! Where are they?” she exclaimed. Veronica shushed her playfully, and then subtly gestured toward the house. The two bustled in through the sliding door, finding their husbands already chatting with the new couple. Marjorie drew Sonny into a warm hug.

“Mrs. Caprizio! Happy Fourth!” he cried happily. “There’s someone I’d really like for you to meet.” Rafael smiled shyly at her, extending his hand, but she wrapped him into another scorching hug.

“You must be Rafael,” she said, withdrawing after a moment. He blushed slightly, the color warming his tanned skin beautifully.

“I am. It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Caprizio. Sonny has told me so much about you and your husband.”

“And we’ve heard a thing or two about you!” she laughed. “Quant’è bello, Sonny,” she murmurred approvingly. Rafael did look the picture of perfection; white linen button up shirt and short navy shorts, just-worn-enough leather topsiders. He beamed next to Sonny, a bronzed arm wrapped around the taller man’s waist, both leaning casually against the back of the sofa. Sonny gave his partner a squeeze, and then followed Marjorie as she headed into the kitchen.

“My dear, you look so happy! And what a gorgeous man you’ve found yourself,” she cooed, unwrapping the dishes of cobbler. Sonny ran a hand through his tousled hair, grinning fit to break his face.

“I know!” he cried, awestruck, “I feel so lucky. Things really started picking up about a month after I last saw you guys, and while it isn’t always easy, it’s been so good. So good.”

“It was the suits, wasn’t it?” she winked.

“They really helped,” he laughed, “honestly though, you should have seen his face – I wore the grey suit that Monday to an arraignment, and he was just glancing back through the gallery, and when he saw me… it was pretty funny. Like he had seen a ghost, but in a good way.”

“You were a vision, mi amor,” Rafael interjected fondly, entering the kitchen behind them. His smirk was gentle, and Sonny wound an arm around his shoulders lovingly, eyes fluttering closed in silent thanks. “What can I say, Mrs. Caprizio – you and your husband are doing God’s work with this one.”

“Oh Rafael, you’re so kind,” she gushed. “When will you join us for a fitting?”

“My tailor and I have a long relationship,” Rafael assured her, “but I may need to shop through your accessories. I love those suspenders you picked out for him, they are so well-made.”

“We would love a visit,” she assured him. Dante joined them in the kitchen, retrieving a beer from the fridge. He turned, his expression warming at the sight of Sonny and Rafael.

“Il tuo corragio stata ricompensati, Sonny,” he said quietly, taking a sip from the bottle.

“Sì, grazie al vostro contributo,” the detective replied, gently pressing a kiss into Rafael’s temple. “Crepi il lupo!”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dante chuckled, and the four clinked together their glasses and bottles, toasting the death of fear, and the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> E il lupo? = and the wolf?
> 
> Ferito = wounded/injured
> 
> Sarà conquistato = it will be conquered/vanquished
> 
> Quant'è bello = how handsome
> 
> Il tuo corragio stata ricompensati = your courage has been rewarded
> 
> Si, grazie al vostro cotributo = yes, thanks to your help
> 
> Crepi il lupo = death to the wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Leave kudos or comments, let me know what you think!


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